InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Patchwork Family ❯ A Cup of Tea, Inspiration, and Talk of the World ( Chapter 29 )

A/N: All Inuyasha characters and references belong to the creator of Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi and published by Shogakukan. Any other characters are more than likely my own creation. If I borrow from another story I will do my best to make sure I give credit where credit is due. I will also be pulling some material (ideas and inspirations) from Burn Notice, Scorpion, Supernatural, and Lockwood & Co.

Here’s a link, in case anyone wants to see the painting that Rosalind is talking about midway through the chapter: http://www.paul-gauguin.net/In-The-Heat-Of-The-Day.html

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Rosalind was humming along with the little CD player she’d plugged in for company while she worked, volume turned down low so the sound wouldn’t travel far. She was feeling pretty well accomplished. Things had been mercifully quiet all day and she’d gotten quite a bit of prep work and cooking done. The freezer was stocked, her counters were clean, and dishes were done. Now she could finally sort the herbs out into jars, which lay drying on two dish towels.

She was turning the jars upright in a row before her when she heard the front door open and close. A glance at the clock told her it was only about 2 p.m., too early for anyone who was out to be home. Had something happened? She frowned as Axel lifted his head where he lay beside the refrigerator.

The dog was grumbling in a tone of disapproval. She’d never heard him make such a sound and looked up as a broad shouldered man with a square jaw walked into the kitchen. He was a few inches taller than her, with dark hair cropped close to his head and a chinstrap beard. He shifted from foot to foot, dressed in board shorts and an oversized t-shirt.

He looked confused to see her there and they blinked at each other for a moment. After she looked him over and decided he was, at least, unarmed, she said, “umm…. hi? Caaaan I help you?”

Axel growled again and the man gave him an annoyed look, speaking with a slight Asian accent. “I’m Vaughn, I cook here. What- did the boss finally get himself a woman? He needs to get laid.” The man shook his head and grinned as he declared, “I know he’s supposed to be some big scary demon but he’s way too up-tight. It’s not healthy, you know?”

She blinked again and said slowly, “I’m Rosalind. I grew up here- sort of...” She shook her head, confused, and rather put off by both this man’s mocking lack of regard, and the position she found herself in. “Sesshomaru didn’t call you?”

The man’s grin turned into a scowl and he stopped looking her up and down, becoming irritated. “What do you mean call me? I come twice a week. That’s what he pays me for.”

Rosalind stepped around Axel, who was still watching the man closely. She skirted the guy and said, “I’ll just… let Sesshomaru know you’re here. Excuse me.”

The guy didn’t move out of her way so she went around him and strode quickly down the hall. She walked into the open sitting room and found Sesshomaru’s office door was closed. After listening for a moment and hearing nothing she knocked softly. There was a barely discernable sound of movement and Sesshomaru opened the door. Rosalind stood, turning one of the greenish glass jars over in her hands nervously. The demon picked up on her fidgeting instantly and his expression became more alert. “What’s wrong?”

She took a breath and said, “the man who usually cooks for you is here. He’s in the kitchen.”

Sesshomaru’s expression became a little more severe and he nodded. “I see. Thank you.” She stepped to the side and he moved past her. She trailed him back to the kitchen where the man was looking at the herbs spread out on the counter. “What’s all this stuff?”

Sesshomaru put his hands in the pockets of his slacks and explained. “That would be the collection of herbs Rosalind cooks with. I attempted to call you this-morning. When there was no answer I left you a voicemail.”

The man sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “My girlfriend’s rug rat spilled something on my phone yesterday. It’s not working right.”

Sesshomaru gave him a curt nod and said, “my message was to inform you that your services are no longer needed. You’ll receive your final check in the mail on Monday, for the full amount per usual, with the addition of severance pay.”

The man’s face worked for a moment in surprise. His dark eyes moved from the demon to Rosalind’s half guilty expression and back. “So what is this…,” he spat in irritation, “you pick up this pretty piece of ass and I’m just out of a job? What for?”

Rosalind frowned and opened her mouth to give him what-for, but something about the way the man’s features changed in alarm made her glance at Sesshomaru. Everything about him had gone still and hard, his eyes narrowed, predatory gaze sharp as a hot knife. His voice was calm and quiet, but the tone held quiet menace of the lethal variety. “First, Vaughn, you will apologize earnestly to this woman; then you will leave and you will not come back. You will remember the contract you signed when you began employment with me, specifically the non-disclosure clause, and you will adhere to it completely, or there will be dire consequences that will render all your other problems meaningless. Am… I… Clear?”

Axel stood and came over to lean against Rosalind’s legs protectively, eyeing the man. But for a few low growls from the dog, there was silence as the cook tried to decide how serious a threat the demon was. Privately, Rosalind thought he must not be terribly bright. If Sesshomaru had looked at her that way, all attempts at courage would go out the window and she would have run the other direction. It would be nothing but good sense. The man swallowed hard and nodded, flicking a resentful look to Rosalind. “Sorry lady.”

Rosalind nodded and looked away, feeling a little awkward. However, Sesshomaru wasn’t satisfied. “Again. You have one more chance to convince me you’re sincere. Consider over the next five seconds that I have removed limbs for similar transgressions, with very little effort, and from far greater men than yourself.”

The remaining color drained from Vaughn’s face and he gulped audibly. After a moment his eyes dropped to Rosalind again and this time the resentment had been clearly replaced by fear. “I apologize. I mean you no disrespect Miss.”

After a long moment, Sesshomaru lifted his chin a minute amount, and stepped to the side out of the doorway, placing himself between her and Vaughn. The cook at least had the instinct to hesitate for a moment before he walked close past the demon and out the front door. Sesshomaru left the kitchen and watched out the living room window to be sure the man had left before he turned back to Rosalind.

She stood in the doorway to the kitchen, worrying her lip and looking uncertain. Her scent was shifting between various kinds of discomfort and he found it was impossible to read it clearly. Sesshomaru took a deep breath in through his nose and released it, consciously relaxing his stance as well as he could manage. “I’m sorry you were a part of that. I was unable to reach him this-morning, and then I was sidetracked this afternoon with other business.”

Rosalind shrugged, adopting a small smile. “It’s alright. I’ve been accused of worse in my life than having a nice ass. A girl likes to have that kind of thing objectively verified every once in a while anyway.”

He didn’t smile at her humor, instead his voice was firm. “You deserve unquestionable respect Rosalind, and should never tolerate being treated without it, especially in your own home, and especially in front of me.”

She swallowed and nodded once, green eyes sliding away from his intense gaze. She could tell he was still angry, so she did what came naturally. “It’s after two and you never surfaced for lunch. Would you like a something? There’s a burger from last night or I could fix something else.”

Sesshomaru watched her for a moment, assessing her and admitted, “I could do with something to eat- yes. But I’ll get it. You’ve been in the kitchen since early this-morning and I need a break anyway.”

She looked lost for a moment, then glanced out the window. Dark clouds still hovered, but it looked as if the rain had stopped and the ground had dried to some extent. “I think I’ll go for a run then, just down on the beach.”

Sesshomaru nodded his approval, adding, “take Axel with you.”

Rosalind smiled down at the dog, who was still standing next to her, looking subdued. “Whatcha’ say Axel? Wanna go for a run?” His ears twitched, tongue lolled out in a doggy grin, and his drooping tail began to wag. Rosalind looked back up at Sesshomaru. “Well, that’s an affirmative if I’ve ever seen one.”

Rosalind changed into a pair of threadbare leggings, making a note to remember she might be able to pick up a new pair next time the opportunity came. She changed into a sports tank and an old green HSU t-shirt. After she had her old running shoes on, she sat on the floor and attempted to stretch- but her efforts were thwarted. Every time she reached for her toes, Axel would stand next to her, licking her ear in his excitement. Finally she gave up and got to her feet, fending off the prancing dog. “Alright, alright! I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Sesshomaru was standing in the kitchen eating one of the leftover hamburgers cold and looked up when Rosalind walked by, returning her wave with a nod as she made her way to the front door. The air was damp and cool again as she stepped outside. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and started out with a slow jog, following the path down from the yard to the beach. The damp weather actually made the sand easier to run on, and she picked up her pace, looking out to sea at the tossing waves. There would definitely be more weather coming in.

Axel bounded along beside her, sometimes running ahead, and then circling back in the way dogs do. She grinned and tried to keep up. After about ten minutes she stopped, panting, and wiped the sweat from her face. While she stood catching her breath, the dog’s ears perked up and he cocked his head. He took a few steps toward the water and dropped his nose to the sand. She saw he was investigating a small brown crab that was skittering sideways in the surf.

Rosalind called out to the dog and shook her head. “Trust me buddy, it’ll only end in tears.” Axel just panted happily and sniffed around. While he poked about, she found a stone about as high as her knees and used it to do some push-ups and mountain climbers against, taking the time now to stretch and look around. The sky was getting darker and she thought it best to start heading back. The air had chilled more than she’d expected, causing her chest to tighten, and she was beginning to wish she’d put on a sweater.

Still five minutes run from the house, the wind picked up and it started raining again. She swore and slowed her pace a little. Between the cold rain and the dropping temperature, if she didn’t slow down she wouldn’t be able to breath at all by the time she got home. For just a moment she closed her eyes and remembered the thick smog of miasma filling her lungs as she struggled for clean air. Her eyes squeezed tighter as a surge of cold feeling in her swelled. She didn’t allow herself to think of it often, but when she did, she wanted to kill Naraku. She wanted to tear him apart into little pieces until there was nothing recognizable left of him. As the sound of his sick laughter rang in her ears she shook herself and opened her eyes.

Rosalind berated herself as she did her best to let the sound of the surf and the rain wash her mind clean. It did no good to think of these things. The past remained the past; it couldn’t be changed. As she walked, she briefly remembered something she’d read recently. It was a quote by a German philosopher named Friedrich Nietzsche that translated to something like, “when we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago.”That was all that was happening now; it was only because she was tired, she decided. That was all that she could allow.

Sesshomaru was working at his desk when he heard the patter of rain beginning on the roof above him. He hadn’t heard the front door yet, which meant Rosalind was still outside. He worked for a few more minutes, but found he’d read the same paragraph three times without comprehending a word of it. Disgusted, he tossed the file back onto the desk and left the office.

In the front room, he stared out the large picture window. There was a crash of thunder as the darkness surged in again over the pacific. His frown deepened and he was on the verge of leaving the house to go after her when he saw the black dog trotting just ahead of Rosalind as she walked up the path to the driveway. He frowned in disapproval and went to the hall closet to pull out a large towel.

A minute later the front door opened and a panting, sweaty Rosalind entered, the wet dog pushing his way in after her. She saw Sesshomaru coming towards her with the towel, and despite her wheezing, bent over to hold Axel, restraining him from shaking his dripping coat in the front hall. “Quick!” she gasped, holding out her hand.

He gave her the towel and she tossed it over the big dog, rubbing him down and keeping it over him until he resigned himself and shook off the water beneath its cover. She smiled in victory and straightened to find Sesshomaru approaching with another thick white towel. Before she could say anything he dropped it around her wet shoulders. Though he frowned, his tone was firm, but not angry as he lightly reprimanded her. “You shouldn’t have gone so far with the weather like it is.”

She shrugged and ducked her head to cough hard into her elbow. Her lips twisted to the side a little in discontent. “I didn’t go that far, I was just a lot slower coming back than I planned on.”

Sesshomaru raised a brow and looked her over, immediately picking up on the thick rasping that came from her every time she inhaled or exhaled. She was still panting slightly, having a hard time catching her breath. Rosalind didn’t look concerned, though she was flushed and completely soaked. She wiped the water off her face with the towel and looked at him apologetically. “Sorry, I’m all sweaty and gross. Between the wet dog smell and me I don’t know how you can breathe.”

He looked at Axel- who’d flopped down on his bed in the corner, then back at the soaked woman standing in front of him. “The dog stinks- yes, but your smell is not offensive.”

She arched a brow in return and smiled a little. “That’s kind but I wouldn’t blame you for holding your nose. If Axel doesn’t smell better after a while I’ll toss him in the tub and give him a bath.” At the word bath, Axel’s head came up off his paws a few inches and his ears lay flat. He let out a pitiful whine through his nose. Rosalind coughed again and said, “that’s right, I’m talking about you, fuzz butt.”

Sesshomaru shook his head. “You should take a hot shower. The steam will sooth the tissue in your bronchioles.”

Rosalind coughed hard again before she croaked, “yeah… I think I will.” She waved her hand a little dismissively. “It sounds worse than it is. Don’t worry about it.” The lack of change in his expression announced his disbelief plainly as she coughed again. “Go,” he ordered. “I’ll heat water and for tea when you’re finished.” She looked a little surprised, and paused the toweling of her dripping hair. “Um… ok, thanks… I guess. I’ll be right out.”

Sesshomaru shook his head sternly. “Give the steam time.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded and made her way to her room. She peeled off her wet clothes and turned on the water in the little shower stall of her bathroom. Privately she didn’t know how he could say she didn’t smell. She could smell herself, and if she could smell her, he could smell her ten times over. But then, she reflected as she stepped into the shower, he hadn’t said he couldn’t smell her. He’d said her smell was not offensive. She rolled her eyes and smiled to herself as she tilted her head back to rub shampoo into her hair. Sometimes he could be strange.

Rosalind did as she’d been told. She felt her muscles thaw pleasantly while she soaked in the warmth, and her lungs began to ease- though her airways still made a whistling sound if she took anything more than shallow breath. As she rubbed a little of her homemade shampoo through her hair she mentally went over the things that had been said in the kitchen before Vaughn had scampered from the house in terror.

As her thoughts drifted, she realized that twice now in one day, someone had implied she and Sesshomaru were in some kind of intimate relationship. Almost against her will, she found the thought intriguing, if exorbitantly far-fetched. Again the view of him on Rin’s bed the night before drifted across her mind’s eye and she let herself enjoy it for a second. How would it feel to have someone like him for her very own? She’d never imagined such a thing.

Oh, she’d imagined a relationship with a demon plenty of times, a hazard of growing up the way she had. She’d even briefly had a teenage crush on Gabriel, of which she had told no one. She’d worked very hard to avoid him until the feelings had passed; terrified every time he was around that someone would smell the physical appreciation she’d had for him, as she knew demons could. She let out a muted laugh as she ran a sudsy hand down her flat belly. In her caution, there’d been many more showers than strictly necessary that year.

Not long after that she’d been grabbed by Naraku’s crew. Whimsical romantic feelings were something she’d come to slowly to begin with after her earlier childhood experiences, and after the kidnapping, the fragile ease with which she’d begun to enjoy them was gone. That kind of interaction, even purely on an emotional level, had been first painfully distressing, and then turned into a kind of numb paralysis that hadn’t stirred much all until, well- until last night if she was being completely honest with herself. She sighed and shook a mental finger in the face of her shoulder angel. Even considering the thought of imagining that kind of connection with Sesshomaru was woefully unwise, not to mention bound to cause problems for everyone involved.

Even if she did decide she was interested, despite all weirdness, the thought made her feel shameful, as if it was a vulgar, awful betrayal of Rhiannon’s memory. In her imagination, she gave Rhiannon a companionable salute, and ending the train of thought wishing the woman’s spirit well, wherever she might be, and commending her on her admirable taste in men.

When she got out of the shower, she changed into a pair of old blue-plaid pajama pants. These, like the majority of her belongings were much mended and dearly loved. There were two places where they were patched with old t-shirt fabric and three where she’d obviously sewn the seams back together. She slid on a bra, camisole and sweatshirt before she pulled on another pair of her thick, new socks. Feeling clean and warm, she wiped away the smears from her makeup and left the small amount of eyeliner that had stayed put.

Sesshomaru stood in the kitchen, leaning a hip against the counter as he sifted through the pile of photos Sango had given him. He’d placed a small white label in the bottom right corner of each image and was writing names, identifying those in the picture. He frowned at the series of faces, wondering if he’d missed any other vipers lying in wait. It had been many years since he’d made such mistakes and the fact that he’d let it happen now gnawed at him. Not for the first time in recent days, he wondered if he was, perhaps, over-extending his attention.

Rosalind walked into the kitchen just then, pulling a brush through wavy, damp, dark red hair. He looked up as she pulled out a mug and measured some tea into a strainer. Inhaling deeply, he collected any information he could, listening to the rustling in her lungs. She smelled pleasant, he thought, like cinnamon, coconut and water. Most humans these days had a collection of chemical scents and perfumes clinging to them everywhere they went. It took him a moment to realize that there was substantially less of that smell on her than he’d found on any human in a very long time, and he wondered at it.

She added a little of the nettle leaf and some ginger to her cup before she pulled herself into one of the stools, waiting for her tea to steep. Sesshomaru’s eyes lingered on her face, noting the stain of dark circles beneath her eyes, now that the majority of her makeup had been washed away. She looked at what he was doing and picked up one of the photos. With a faint smile she said, “I remember this. Two years ago right?”

She looked at it closer. “Yes… I can see the corner of one of those canvases I was working on when Sango lifted the Gauguin.” She paused, eyes distant as she searched her mind for the painting’s official title. “In the Heat of the Day… that’s what it was. That was one of my favorites, though I’ll admit, it wore me out.”

She looked up from her mug to find Sesshomaru eyeing her speculatively. She cocked her head a little to the side, drawing out the single word as a question. “Yeees?”

He looked back at the photo and said, “I’m not certain I understand your meaning.”

She pursed her lips and straightened in her seat. “First of all… people have no idea what kinds of physical aches and pains actually come with painting. It’s not running a marathon, but it’s more physically taxing than it looks. The stiff shoulders can be murder.” He raised a brow and his lips tugged at the corners in amusement. “Secondly,” she continued, “that piece is pretty emotional. Do you remember it at all?”

Sesshomaru searched his memory and shook his head. “I can’t say I do.”

Rosalind stood and added a little honey to her mug, her eyes becoming a little unfocused as she thought of the piece she’d spent so many days studying and replicating. They’d made three forgeries of it and managed to sell them all into private collections in separate countries. That had been a good paycheck. People liked the post-impressionist’s work, even if they didn’t always understand it.

“The subject of the piece is a woman, faced away from the viewer, with her arms raised as if she’s leaning forward on something.” Rosalind frowned a little now. “I’ve looked but I’ve never been able to find much of an explanation for it. It’s not considered one of his master works, so mostly I guess nobody cared. Between the colors and the way the lines of everything around her sort of hunker down in the same exhausted shape as her shoulders, it’s an image that can make you want to lay down and take a nap just looking at it. The way I saw her, she’d worked so hard, for so long, and somehow she never seemed to get to the point she was reaching for.”

Sesshomaru considered this, still puzzled, voice low and smooth as he asked doubtfully, “futility intrigues you…?”

Rosalind’s eyes met his, electric in a way they always were when she spoke of the things she was passionate about, mainly art and food. She shook her head, smiling, and leaned her hip against the counter to face him, stirring her tea. “No. That’s just it. There’s something about it, the way he painted the muscles in her arms, and the way her lower back is still straight and strong. As utterly debilitated and worn out as she appears, you get the sense that she’s only leaning for a moment. She hasn’t dropped under the load of her experience. She’s taking a breather before she heaves herself back into whatever effort it is that matters so much to her.”

The young woman took a deep breath and let it out, as if she herself had just set down a heavy weight. “It wears me out, but it’s inspiring. Though I’ll never see that woman’s face, she makes me feel like if I just keep going, anything is possible; like I could move mountains. And she tells us that it’s alright to pause now and then along the way to take a breath, so long as we don’t lay down and give up.”

Sesshomaru studied her expression, interest stirred by the surge of energy in her. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t recall the painting, and he found he wanted to compare the image with Rosalind’s vivid verbal reconstruction. He looked back at the corner of a half painted canvas he could see in the print and asked, “do you have a photograph of the painting?”

Rosalind shook her head sadly. “No. I’ve been saving for a good camera so I can start keeping an archival portfolio of my copy-work, as well as original art. I’ll bet it’s on the internet though. Everything is these days.” He picked up the pile of photographs and said curiously, “let’s find out.”

She followed him into his office where he moved the mouse to wake up his computer. He pulled up a web browser and gestured for Rosalind to sit in the big leather desk chair. She hesitated a moment, looking surprised. As she sat he explained, “you know better what we’re looking for.”

While she entered her search parameters, he went to the bank of six large screens that hung on the wall to the left of his broad antique mahogany desk. He pulled down a white silk screen from where it was rolled against the ceiling, covering the monitors, and reached up to power on a projector, which hung from the ceiling on the other side of the room. Rosalind looked up then and said, “I have it.”

Sesshomaru came around behind the chair where she sat and flipped a small white switch next to his computer. The projector hummed as it came to life, displaying the large image she’d pulled up to fill the screen. Rosalind was surprised at the color quality and guessed the projector he was using must be worth thousands of dollars. The colors were truly as close to what she remembered as a projected photograph could get. She stood and came to stand closer, her mind moving along the familiar brush strokes, finding them comforting in the way of an old favorite place, visited long ago.

Sesshomaru stood next to her, and spent several minutes examining the piece in detail. Finally he made an affirmative sound, and said, “I see what you mean. I like it better than the others for which this painter better known.”

She grinned in amusement. “Why? His bawdy colors and naked women don’t do anything for you? Most men have a real thing for a topless Tahitian beauty.”

He snorted derisivly and shook his head. “No. I’ll admit I dismissed him after I saw those and a few of his still lifes.”

Rosalind went back to the computer and pulled up another image while she spoke. “You didn’t look at any of his landscapes? I’m not particularly into landscapes, but I like Cezanne’s work and Gauguin was fascinated by him. They were contemporaries. He even managed to meet Cezanne through a mutual acquaintance and bought several of his pieces to study the brushwork… hold on a second… here it is.”

Another painting filled the silk screen and Rosalind came back to stand beside him. “This one’s just called Street on Tahiti. I love the way he doesn’t over blend or mix. I imagine the light must make the colors in that part of the world seem somehow brighter, more heavily saturated… if that makes sense. So much art that comes out of those cultures is so dynamic.”

Sesshomaru considered this as he studied the painting. After some thought he said, “your estimation is correct. What they’ve started calling Polynesiais a beautiful place, and closer to the equator the light is different because of the proximity and angle to the sun. But it’s not only close to the equator; especially appealing light is one of the things is famous for too.”

Rosalind raised a brow. “You’ve been to ”

He nodded once. “I visited one of the island groups. It was a good halfway point to work some in-person transactions. A business partner of the time was working out of ”

She frowned. “Where’s that… ”

He nodded in approval, mildly impressed with her geographical acumen. “Indeed.” After a quiet moment he asked, “when was Gauguin there?”

Rosalind blinked for a moment, trying to remember. She frowned and went to the computer to look it up. She sat back down in Sesshomaru’s roomy chair, crossing one pajama clad knee over the other with a sigh, she paraphrased as she read. “He was there in the 1890s, and it looks like he actually died there.”

Sesshomaru slid his hands in the pockets of his slacks again, watching the images change on the silk screen as Rosalind pulled up maps and photographs of the islands and atolls. Sesshomaru pointed at the screen and she paused over the image of a coastline when he spoke. “That looks like where I went. The sand on that side of the island near Papenoo is dark like that.”

Rosalind sat thoughtfully, then her gaze moved to Sesshomaru, who looked at her and made a small bemused sound. “I’d forgotten about that trip.”

“How long ago was it?” she asked curiously. She realized that it was physically possible, if unlikely, for him to have been there at the same time as the painter.

Sesshomaru’s eyes closed a moment as he thought, calculating to himself. “It wasn’t too long ago…” Finally he opened his eyes and said, “1968. No…” he narrowed his eyes a little, “1970.”

Rosalind tried to picture Sesshomaru following the styles popular in during the 1970s and failed. She grinned at the idea of him in bell bottoms and platform shoes. The image was so ridiculous that she laughed a little to herself. When Sesshomaru raised a brow she just shook her head and mumbled, “nothing.”

She looked back at the image of huts built on stilts over the water. “That would make a great painting, especially on a long panoramic canvas, maybe with moon light colors on the water.” She stood and sighed. “Guess it’s on the list.”

Sesshomaru straightened and turned off the projector. “What list is that?”

She hesitated a second, and then said, “the list of places I’m going to see someday.” She grinned and added, “it’s a long list but I think has to move up a few spaces.” Sesshomaru glanced at an old world map that hung on his wall. “When do you plan to travel?”

Rosalind’s expression dimmed a little and she shrugged. “I’m not sure. I have to save for a while yet, maybe in a few years I’ll do my first trip. A ticket to is almost $1,500, and there’s inflation to consider. Then there’s food, lodging, and it costs about 12 pounds to get into the Louvre for one day, and I’ll probably want to go for at least two.”

Sesshomaru was unsurprised to hear was a top choice, given her artistic inclinations. Personally he didn’t care for the way most of the city smelled, but it had its interesting points. “What about the rest of the list?” he asked, curiously.

She studied the map for a second and let out a long breath. “Lots of places- I’d like to see … There’s lots of places here in the states too.” She pursed her lips in a small smile and shrugged again. “Only so much time and money though, we’ll see.” She chewed her lip, the expression on his face somehow making her feel like she’d spilled the beans, though she couldn’t think why. She chided herself for being silly. It wasn’t as if her fascination with other places and cultures was a secret.

It took Sesshomaru a moment to realize what she meant, and that same cold, unpleasant feeling crept into his mind as he remembered that she would only have another 65 years or so, at most to do everything she wanted to do, and see everything she wanted to see. His golden eyes slid over her, trying again to imagine her old and frail, but he still couldn’t manage to summon an image of her that way.

She adopted a slightly over-bright smile and said, “I’ll figure it out.” She put her arms up and rotated her hips from side to side, exaggerating her movements and grinning. “Maybe I’ll become a belly dancer and get a job on a cruise ship, or with a traveling circus.”

Sesshomaru’s eyes followed her hips automatically, and he tried to banish the grim feeling that had slipped into the comfortable atmosphere they’d just been enjoying. When his serious expression barely faltered she crossed her arms. “Oh come on… after this bunch- a traveling circus can’t be too difficult right?”

He made a small sound of amusement and this time he did smile, though his voice was dry as he agreed, “without a doubt.”